


Rain in Shangri-La

by carolinecrane



Series: down is where we came from [11]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-21
Updated: 2010-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:11:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Homecoming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain in Shangri-La

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a typical e-mail conversation between cinderlily and myself:
> 
> Me: SO WHAT DO YOU SAY THE BOYS GO HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS TOGETHER? AND THEY CAN'T HAVE SEX AND IT'S SUPER-FRUSTRATING AND THERE IS CRAZY MARRIAGE TALK AND KURT'S ALL, 'LOL NOBODY'S GETTING MARRIED' AND PUCK'S ALL, 'FUCK WE AREN'T' AND ALSO THERE'S THIS OTHER SPOILERY STUFF THAT HAPPENS TOO.
> 
> Liz: OMG YES AND ALSO I WROTE THIS SNIPPET BASED ON THAT HERE I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.
> 
> Me: YOU ARE CRAZY OF COURSE I LOVE IT. HERE, LET ME WRITE THE BORING SETUP AND THEN WE CAN WRITE THE HOLIDAY EXTRAVAGANZA.
> 
> Liz: OKAY!
> 
> (Capslock totally not optional.)
> 
> So that's how this came about. In which Kurt and Puck go home for the holidays. With many thanks to [writingpathways](http://archiveofourown.org/users/writingpathways/pseuds/writingpathways) for the hand-holding.

Puck shows up at Kurt's door ten minutes before the cab's due to arrive, a gym bag slung over one shoulder and his old letterman jacket hanging open over his favorite faded Fender t-shirt. Kurt doesn't ask how he fit two weeks' worth of clothes into one little bag. He might have, because he's honestly curious how that's even possible, except that his brain stops working as soon as he sees Puck's jacket.

The last time he saw Puck wearing that jacket they were still in high school. He doesn't remember the exact moment or anything, but Puck was _always_ in that jacket back in high school, so it was probably the last time Kurt happened to see him before graduation. And it's just a jacket -- sort of ugly and not exactly fashion-forward, certainly, but still just a jacket -- but for some reason seeing it again after all these years makes Kurt's stomach tremble.

It's the same reaction he used to have when he was a geeky Glee Club loser and the football team happened to spot him on the way into school. He hasn't felt that way once with Puck, not since that first night in the bar when Puck kissed him and then he kissed Puck and then he sort of lost his mind and assumed Puck was going to punch him just for doing him a favor. It wasn't rational, but in his defense, Puck's a really amazing kisser.

And he knows perfectly well how Puck feels about him, so it's not like he thinks Puck's going to turn back into that high school jerk just because he put his letterman jacket back on. But it drives home the truth that Kurt's been trying not to think about since he agreed to go home for Christmas, and if he was nervous before, well, he's petrified now.

"What's the problem?" Puck asks, frowning at him and reaching out to curve his palm around Kurt's cheek, and thank _God_ he manages not to flinch, because he knows Puck would take it personally. "You look like you're about to hurl. You're not afraid to fly or something, are you? You know it's safer than driving a car, right?"

"That's a misleading statistic," Kurt says, not that it matters, because he's not afraid to fly. He considers letting Puck think he is, mostly because he's not sure how to tell him the sight of his high school jacket is making Kurt regret agreeing to go back to Ohio in the first place. If he could explain why he might try, but he knows Puck well enough to know he won't understand.

"I didn't know you still had that jacket."

Puck shrugs and lets his hand drop, and Kurt has to stop himself from reaching out and pressing it against his cheek again. "Good thing I kept it, I guess. I'd freeze my balls off if I went home in my leather jacket."

It makes perfect sense, and it's exactly the reason Kurt 'borrowed' a Burberry car coat from the sample room at his internship. Neither of them have a reason to own a winter coat, but if Kurt had been thinking about what Puck might show up in, he would have borrowed a coat for him as well. He'd probably complain about it, but in the end he would have worn it to make Kurt happy, and he'd look really good in navy wool.

Kurt briefly wonders if they have time to swing by the office on the way to the airport, but he knows better than to tempt fate when it comes to L.A. traffic. Missing their flight is tempting in theory, but they're supposed to have dinner with Puck's mother tonight, and Kurt knows if he makes them miss that he'll never hear the end of it.

"Seriously, you okay?" Puck asks, frowning again and Kurt realizes he's still standing in the doorway, staring at Puck's jacket like it might bite him. Kurt flushes and turns away, crossing the living room to swing his carry-on onto his shoulder. When he straightens up Puck's right next to him, reaching for the suitcase that's nearly as big as Kurt and raising an eyebrow at him.

"I'm fine," Kurt lies, and he hopes his tight-lipped smile looks more convincing than it feels. "Just trying to remember what I forgot to pack."

"Well it feels like you remembered most of the apartment and a couple of dead bodies," Puck complains, but he lifts the suitcase easily. "You decide to move home and forget to tell me?"

"This is home," Kurt says, maybe a little more forcefully than he needs to, but he means it.

"Okay." Puck sets his suitcase by the front door before he turns back to Kurt, hands on his shoulders to force Kurt to look at him. "You're freaking me out here. Is this about meeting my mom or something? Because no matter what Hudson told you, she's not that bad."

Kurt wants to laugh, because he hasn't even let himself get that far in his worry doom spiral yet, and when he does start thinking about meeting Puck's mother, he probably will throw up. At the moment he's still stuck on the fact that he's going back to Lima with _Puck_ , and no matter who they are in L.A., they're going to be different once they get to Ohio. He's worked really hard to move past who he was in high school and he knows Puck has too, but that doesn't mean everyone they know is going to let them forget where they came from.

He knows if he says any of that out loud that Puck will tell him he's being an idiot, or worse, he'll jump to the conclusion that Kurt's expecting him to turn back into his high school self as soon as they set foot on Midwestern soil, and that's...well, it's not exactly the truth. It's not exactly a lie, either, though, and that's the problem. Because he doesn't expect Puck to toss him in a dumpster just for old times' sake, but he can't help being different around the people who knew him back then, and no matter how much Kurt wishes they could, they're never going to be able to avoid Finn or Quinn or any of the other popular kids who are still stuck in Lima, clinging pathetically to their so-called glory days.

"You've never brought a guy home before," Kurt says, not quite meeting Puck's eyes but he figures Puck will just write that off as insecurity about meeting Mrs. Puckerman. "I know she says in theory she's okay with it..."

"She'll be okay with it," Puck interrupts him, and when Kurt ventures a glance at him and sees the way Puck's eyes flash, his heart skips a beat. "Because if she's not, she won't be seeing me again."

Kurt reaches out, hand curling around the front of that stupid letterman jacket to drag Puck forward. He presses their mouths together, and if it feels a little desperate Puck doesn't point it out.

"I really love you, you know," Kurt whispers when Puck pulls back to look at him again, cheeks burning because he's not usually the one who says it first. Puck's better at that stuff, better at wearing his emotions on his tragically unfashionable sleeve and offering up exactly what Kurt needs, sometimes before he even knows he needs it. Kurt's said it plenty of times, sure, but usually it's a perfunctory 'I love you too'.

He doesn't know why he says it now, but it seems really important somehow, just to put it out there one last time before they go back to families and old friends and expectations they haven't had to live down in years.

"Yeah, I know. I mean, who wouldn't?" Puck grins at him as Kurt rolls his eyes and pushes him away, but he can't quite hide his smile. "Now move your ass. If we miss our flight, I'm letting you explain it to my mother."

Kurt opens his mouth to point out that the taxi hasn't even arrived, so if they miss their flight it's not technically his fault, but right on cue the intercom buzzes. He adjusts his carry-on and picks up his borrowed winter coat, then he checks to make sure he has his keys before he follows Puck out of the apartment. Puck handles his own bag and Kurt's suitcase without complaint, and when they reach the sidewalk Kurt slides into the back of the taxi while Puck maneuvers the luggage into the open trunk.

"Airport," Puck tells the driver when he climbs into the back seat next to Kurt, and when his hand lands on Kurt's knee and squeezes Kurt has to swallow the urge to tell the cabbie that they've changed their minds after all.

~

Carole texts him twice before they even reach the airport. The first time is to tell him that the weather is clear and their flight is on time. The second time is to remind him for approximately the seven hundredth time to make sure Noah knows he's welcome at their Christmas Eve dinner.

So far Kurt hasn't decided if she's doing it to prove to him that she's fine with their relationship, or if she's just trying to make sure Puck shows up so she can get him alone and exact some weird revenge for the way he hurt her son. Except that whole mess was really more Quinn's doing than Puck's, and Carole seems perfectly fine with the fact that Quinn and Finn are friendly these days.

He tried asking his father, but Burt was completely oblivious, as usual. He even brought it up with Puck once, but all he'd said was, "Me and Mrs. H are totally cool, babe," and gone back to watching idiots blow things up on the Internet. Still, it's not like he'd _know_ if Kurt's not-so-evil stepmother is plotting against him. In the end Kurt decides to let Puck interact with his family, but he's keeping an eye on Carole, and he's making sure Burt and his heavy hand with the rum bottle aren't allowed anywhere near the eggnog.

"What's up?" Puck asks after the second text, and Kurt just rolls his eyes and leans back into the circle of Puck's arm around his shoulders.

"Just my wicked stepmonster making sure you know you're welcome in her home, in case you didn't get the memo the first several hundred times."

Puck laughs and leans over to brush his lips across Kurt's temple, heedless of the cab driver with a clear view of them in his rear view mirror. And Kurt's not fond of audiences, as a general rule, but he lets himself enjoy the contact anyway, because chances are once they're back in Ohio Puck will be a lot slower to show affection where anyone can see.

His stomach twists at the thought, but he pushes down the rush of panic, because he's pretty sure Puck hasn't thought this whole thing through that far, and he doesn't want to fight about something that hasn't happened yet.

"You better stop calling her that or you'll end up saying it to her face," Puck says as they pull up at the terminal. They climb out of the cab and Kurt pays the driver while Puck does the heavy lifting with their luggage. When he's handed Kurt's giant suitcase over to a skycap he slides an arm around Kurt's shoulders and steers him into the terminal.

"And if you call her that to her face you'll make her cry, then Burt's going to throw you out and you'll have to crash at my mom's place, and she turned the guest room into some kind of craft center or some shit like that, so you'll have to share with me." He pauses to grin at Kurt, and Kurt doesn't even bother trying not to roll his eyes. "On second thought, call her whatever you want."

"It's truly disturbing how much thought you've put into this."

"Never hurts to plan ahead, right?"

~

Once they print their boarding passes there's just enough time to stop for overpriced espresso before they board. Kurt lets Puck have the aisle seat, partly because his legs really are ridiculously long, but also because it means he can press himself along Puck's side without feeling weird about the other passengers watching him.

He waits until they're in the air and the flight attendants have mostly stopped hovering before he pushes up the armrest between them and slides close, leaning into Puck's warmth and catching his hand to slide their fingers together. He's got the January issues of _Vogue_ and _Elle_ tucked in his carry-on, but Puck's warm and comfortable and they both know they're in for a pretty frustrating two weeks, so just touching as much as possible for the next few hours seems like the best use of their time.

"Hey, you wanna join the Mile High Club?" Puck asks, and Kurt rolls his eyes, because he knows Puck's only half-joking. He knows if he said yes that Puck would be out of his seat faster than Kurt could say _just kidding_ , except with Kurt's luck they'd get caught, and he doesn't really want to get arrested for public indecency on the way back to his father's house for Christmas.

"That is so not going to happen."

"Where's your sense of adventure, Hummel?"

"I _knew_ I forgot to pack something," Kurt answers, hand sliding under Puck's stupid jacket to feel his laugh rumble in his chest.

He falls asleep somewhere between Puck trying to convince him that joining the Mile High Club is, like, _expected_ on any flight longer than an hour, and the flight attendants coming around to try to sell them overpriced snacks and tiny bottles of alcohol. He wakes up with Puck's arm around him, his face pressed into scratchy wool that's frankly seen better days, and likely at least part of the letter 'M' pressed into the side of his face.

Kurt sits up and runs a hand over his face, wishing for first class and a hot towel, or at the very least, a Wet-Wipe. He knows the reasons mothers carry those things are far grosser than he wants to contemplate, let alone deal with, but he's starting to think they're on to something.

He considers extricating himself from Puck's grip and climbing over him so he can wash his face in the tiny, uncomfortable airplane bathroom, but Puck's warm and Kurt can feel his heart beating where his face is still pressed against Puck's chest, and he doesn't want to give this up just yet.

Which is why, of course, the pilot chooses that moment to announce their descent. Kurt sighs and straightens up as Puck stirs above him, stretching his long arms in the limited space and letting out a satisfied yawn. Kurt's heard that same sound more times than he can count, but usually it involves a lot less clothes and a lot more of Puck pulling him close to start all over again.

Which is the whole problem, Kurt knows. They go out in L.A., sure, they spend time with Brittany or Puck's band or sometimes Kurt's friends from school. But for the past few months it's been more or less just the two of them, and when there's no one around who knew them before, they can be whoever they want. In L.A. they fit together, the same way Puck's arm fits around him as he draws Kurt in for a sleepy kiss.

"Almost there."

"Yeah," Puck says, and Kurt wishes he could be as happy about it as Puck seems to be. "Hey, you been back by the school since grad?"

"No," Kurt answers, and he leaves off the 'why on earth would I want to?', but Puck hears it anyway. He laughs and lets go of Kurt, and that's the moment he's been dreading since Puck showed up wearing that awful jacket.

"Trophy case, babe. Last time I was home I stopped by to see how the football team's doing without us. They totally suck," he says before Kurt can point out that it's sort of sad to care about the fate of a high school sports team. "Glee Club's still going strong, though. You know they won Sectionals a couple years in a row after we left? Probably because none of those fuckers over at Vocal Adrenaline ever graduates. They're probably rolling around the stage on walkers by now."

The plane stops at the gate and Puck stands up, reaching in the overhead for his bag and Kurt's borrowed coat before he looks at him again. "We should swing by while we're in town, say hi to Schue, at least."

Kurt makes a noncommittal noise and steps ahead of Puck into the aisle. He tugs his carry-on a little closer as the rest of the passengers crowd into the same small space, scrambling for bags and coats in the vain hope that they're going to get off the plane faster somehow if they want it bad enough.

Kurt's not in any hurry, personally. As soon as they step off the plane and into the airport, they're officially back in Ohio. And he knows how they fit together in L.A., but despite spending almost their entire lives in Lima, he has no idea how they'll fit together now.

~

Burt shows up to meet them at the airport, a favor for which Kurt is quietly grateful. He'd been half-expecting Carole to volunteer to take off work, or else for Finn to get conscripted into chauffeur duty now that his classes are done for winter break. But when they walk past security and toward the escalator that leads to baggage claim, there's his dad, looking a little nervous but happy nonetheless.

Puck spots him first, and when he catches Kurt's hand to pull him out of the flow of traffic heading for the exit, it takes Kurt by surprise. He doesn't let go until they reach Burt, and if his father thinks anything of it he doesn't share. Instead he smiles and claps Puck on the shoulder with one hand, shaking his free hand with the other before he turns and pulls Kurt into a tight hug.

"Dad, I can't breathe," Kurt finally says, mostly because he's fairly sure if he doesn't say _something_ his father's going to embarrass them both.

"Sorry, son. It's good to see you," Burt says. "Both of you."

Kurt smiles, a genuine one this time, because for all he's not looking forward to being back in Ohio, the thing he misses most in L.A. is not seeing his dad. And okay, he was a little horrified when he discovered that not only had Burt friended Puck on Facebook the second he got back from L.A., but they were having regular conversations. Mostly about sports, but it's not as though either of them would admit if they were talking about Kurt, so. It's a little strange.

But it's kind of nice, too, knowing that his father _likes_ his boyfriend and isn't just putting up with him to show how supportive he is. Despite their differences -- their many, many differences -- Kurt's always valued his dad's opinion, and he'd rather Burt and Puck get along too well than be openly hostile like some of the parents on those MTV shows Brittany binges on whenever she's got a day off.

Burt and Puck are busy catching up already, tossing phrases like 'point spread' around, and it's not a language Kurt speaks, but when Puck's arm slides around his shoulders to steer him toward baggage claim, Kurt doesn't mind so much being left out of the conversation. Because they're in Dayton, for God's sake, and it's a little bigger than Lima, but it's still in Ohio, which means they're currently more or less at the geographic center of homophobic middle America.

That's twice since they got off the plane that Puck's touched him voluntarily. It doesn't necessarily mean things won't change as soon as they're back in Lima and he's around people who know him, but Kurt decides to take it as a good sign.

They stop next to their assigned baggage carousel just as the belt starts moving, and Puck waves off Burt's protests that he can take care of Kurt's bag. He drops his own -- really, _impossibly_ tiny -- bag near Kurt's feet before he effortlessly shoulders the other passengers out of his way to stand at the front of the carousel.

Kurt doesn't even bother offering to get his own bag. For one thing, they'd just give him that look that tells him they think he's helpless, and for another, it really does weigh almost as much as him. Which is Burt's fault, really, because he's the one who went and got married, so now Kurt has all that extra shopping to do.

"Everything okay?" Burt says, and Kurt glances over to find his father watching him.

"Fine," he says, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "Why do you ask?"

Burt shrugs and glances back toward the luggage carousel where Puck's standing with his hands in the pockets of his letterman jacket, looking for all the world exactly the same as when they were still in high school.

"I don't know, you seem a little jumpy is all."

He considers telling Burt how weird it is to be back -- or more precisely, how weird it is to be back with _Puck_. He imagines trying to explain it to his father, to make him see that even though he knows how Puck feels about him when they're home, he doesn't trust it not to change now that they're back in Ohio. Only he can't make himself say it out loud, because for one thing, all his father would hear is _it's weird being back here_.

"Just tired," Kurt answers, smiling again and this time Burt smiles back and lets him lie. "It was a long flight."

"Well, you can get some rest once we're back at the house. Finn cleaned up some space for you in your old room." Burt's hand lands on his shoulder, and Kurt endures the awkward pat. He's searching for some remark about Finn's no doubt scandalous taste in decor, just to lighten the mood, when Puck reappears, shouldering his way back through the crowd with Kurt's suitcase in tow.

"What'd you do, bring your whole wardrobe?" Burt asks, and Kurt frowns when Puck laughs.

"Hardly. I'll have you know that your Christmas gifts are taking up a lot of valuable real estate in there."

"You didn't have to bring presents, Kurt," Burt says. He picks up Puck's bag and swings it over his shoulder before Puck can stop him. "You came home; that's enough."

Kurt rolls his eyes at his father's back and falls into step next to Puck on the way to the parking garage. And okay, maybe he did go a little overboard with the packing, but two weeks is a long time to be without wardrobe options, even in someplace as fashion-challenged as Ohio.

"I still want my present," Puck says under his breath, but when Kurt glances at him Puck's grinning like Kurt's _wearing_ the present he wants. He rolls his eyes, but he feels his cheeks flush all the same and it's a struggle to stifle the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Puck just smirks and catches up with Burt, launching back into another conversation about sports and leaving Kurt to trail behind them, blushing and wondering if it's possible that he's been worrying about this trip for nothing.

~

It takes just under an hour to get from the airport to Lima. Kurt expects the trip to feel a lot longer, because he's sitting next to his father and his boyfriend's sprawled across the back seat, and it should be weird. It should be sort of awkward and uncomfortable, with lots of pauses between painful small talk.

Except that Puck and his father have that whole disturbing Facebook relationship, and who knew he'd actually find a reason to be grateful for it. And okay, the fact that they're chatting away like old friends after a hockey game and an utterly humiliating breakfast almost three months ago is kind of strange, but he'll take it over the painful small talk.

When they stray onto the subject of Puck's high school football career Kurt tenses, because his father may be very much a guy, but he's not stupid, and he has to know that Puck traveled in much different circles than Kurt. But if he suspects that Puck was ever the cause of Kurt's childhood trauma, he doesn't ask. Maybe he already knows; Finn certainly does, and if he told Carole then Burt's definitely heard about it.

But Burt just asks about their time on the team together, and when Puck brags about how Kurt pulled them out of their slump with his dance routine and then calls him 'the best goddamn kicker McKinley's ever seen, if you'll excuse my French, sir', Burt just grins in the rear view mirror and says, "It's Burt, son."

It used to bother Kurt when Burt called Finn 'son'. Even after he made his peace with the idea of having a stepmother and an instant brother -- one he'd inconveniently pictured naked more than once in his misspent youth -- it still bothered him a little to hear Burt say that word to someone else. Somehow he doesn't mind so much when he hears Burt say it to Puck.

As highlights of his high school career go, Kurt's brief stint as McKinley's kicker is pretty far down on the list. Still, he never minds listening to Puck say nice things about him, and he still gets a little thrill out of the way his father's chest puffs up with pride when he remembers that Kurt actually does know a _little_ something about football. Which, okay, most of his knowledge came from being a Cheerio, but he doesn't see the need to split hairs when everyone's getting along so well.

They pull up outside the Puckerman house long before he's ready, and Burt parks the car and climbs out to fetch Puck's bag out of the back where it's probably been crushed by Kurt's giant suitcase. Puck climbs out of the back seat and slams the door without saying so much as see you later, and for a second Kurt thinks that's it, that he's finally realized where he is and the moment Kurt's been dreading has arrived.

He's not expecting a sharp rap on the passenger window, but when he looks up Puck's standing there, shivering already in his old jacket, and Kurt blushes and rolls the window down.

"So I'll see you tonight, right?" Puck asks, like he's afraid maybe Kurt's changed his mind.

"Six o'clock," Kurt says, glancing toward the house in time to see the living room curtains twitch closed. His stomach does a somersault and he tries to take a deep, calming breath without letting Puck see how nervous he is. "I'll be here."

Kurt has no idea what his father's doing, but one thing he _does_ know is that it doesn't take that long to get one little bag out of the back of his truck. "It's cold, you should go inside."

"Trying to get rid of me, Hummel?"

"No," Kurt answers, glancing toward the back of the truck, but there's still no sign of his father. "I just wish you had a better coat. Or at least a hat."

He glances up at Puck's neatly shaved scalp, hand twitching with the urge to run his fingers over what he knows from long practice is velvety soft, highly sensitive skin.

"You look better in hats than me," Puck says, and Kurt laughs at that, because he can't imagine anything looking bad on Puck. Even that damn jacket of his looks fantastic on him.

"All you need is the confidence to pull off the look."

Kurt smiles when Puck leans in through the window to grin at him up close. He knows his father's lurking somewhere near the back of the truck in a misguided but sweet attempt to give them privacy, and he knows he should care that Puck's kissing him in front of his dad. Except that Puck's _kissing_ him in front of not only Kurt's dad, but his mother, if the living room curtain is anything to go by, not to mention anyone else who happens to be on the Puckermans' street in broad daylight.

And even though his dad and Puck's mom -- and the rest of Lima, for all Kurt knows -- can see, it's a struggle not to grip Puck by the front of his stupid jacket when he pulls away.

Puck grins like he knows exactly what Kurt's thinking, then he leans in again, lips brushing Kurt's cheek. "See you tonight."

It sounds like a promise, and even though Kurt knows it's one he can't keep, it still sends a shiver down his spine. Before he can answer Puck's gone, rounding the back of the truck to find Kurt's dad and retrieve his bag.

"Don't be a stranger," Kurt hears Burt say, and when he turns to look he finds Puck staring right back at him.

"You don't have to worry about that," Puck answers, the same promise in his voice and Kurt wasn't kidding when he said he wasn't having sex under their parents' roofs, but he blushes anyway.

He's still watching Puck walk up the path to his mother's front door when his dad climbs back into the truck, shivering a little and reaching for the keys. He starts the engine and pulls back out onto the street as Kurt rolls up his window. For a minute neither of them say anything, but when they reach the end of Puck's block Burt clears his throat and glances in Kurt's direction.

"Listen, son, if you guys...I mean, you're an adult now, Kurt..."

 _Oh my God, please stop,_ Kurt thinks, blushing furiously and staring out the window as a depressing row of identical ranch houses rolls by.

"Please," he says instead, talking over his father because seriously, he can _not_ hear the end of that sentence, "we're perfectly capable of spending time apart. We don't even live together."

And that's a lie Kurt even tells himself, because they keep two separate places, sure, but he can count the number of nights they've slept apart since they started dating on his hands, and still have a couple fingers left over. The subject's even come up a time or two, but so far they haven't managed to reach a compromise on _where_ to live, exactly. Puck's place is too far away from school and Kurt's internship, not to mention how tragically small it is. There's no way his bed would fit in Puck's studio, and Kurt will do a lot of things for Puck, but spending the foreseeable future sleeping on a futon isn't one of them.

Puck, on the other hand, blatantly refuses to move in with Kurt, claiming what he calls 'the creep factor' of sharing a place with a girl Kurt once made out with. As though that one stupid mistake has any bearing on Kurt's friendship with Brittany. They both moved past it ages ago, and Kurt really should kill her for bringing it up at all, because it's been weeks and Puck's still not letting it go.

Still, his father doesn't need that much detail about his sex life, and there's no way Kurt is staying in Puck's mother's house with him anyway. No matter how much a part of him might want to.

"If you say so," is all Burt says, but Kurt can feel him stealing glances every so often, and he slumps a little further in the passenger seat and resigns himself to the longest two weeks of his life.


End file.
